Mornings
by Raei
Summary: DracoBlaise, DETAIL HEAVY, The boys go through their morning routines. FLUFF.


The blinds have been charmed to open at precisely 6:00am, every Monday through Friday morning.

In three seconds time, they'll open… and the routine will begin. It's almost like watching a circus production play out before one's eyes, someone would think – if they would be lucky enough to be in this room when dawn breaks. The movements are precise, always done in order, and… of course… beautifully executed. The conversation, however, is the only thing that ever varies outside the safety of the norm that has so easily been created.

Flash!

The blinds are open and Blaise rolls over into Draco, groaning as everything in his view has suddenly gone a blinding, sudden-death red. He rubs at his eyes, and Draco slowly cracks a gray eye open, looking over at Blaise and rolling his own eyes, before cracking a smirk and a yawn.

"I tell you every single bloody night to sleep on your other side, Blaise."

"Yes, but I never do listen, do I?"

A grin, followed closely by another yawn. "No."

"I'm a rugged individualist."

"Indeed. Your breath stinks… shove over."

A laugh. "Not before my morning kiss."

"Oh for Merlin's sake…"

Draco leans over and kisses Blaise's lips, not at all caring that their breath is stale, and Blaise is still rubbing one of his eyes to the point of watering.

Draco pauses between a series of slow, gentle morning kisses. "Stop that."

"Hm? Stop what?"

"Rubbing." Draco murmers against Blaise's lips before kissing him again.

"…I'm not – Oh. Right." Blaise finishes with a grin, before kissing Draco back one last time and rolling out of the other side of the bed, standing up to stretch.

Draco, however, lays about and watches the muscles of Blaise's back glide gracefully under a layer of golden skin. This is where Draco always smiles, and always, always bites his lip to try and contain it. His eyes follow Blaise past the end of the bed, and towards the washroom so he may have his morning shower. Now is when Draco 'secretly' rolls over and curls around Blaise's pillow, shifting all the way over the expanse of the mattress, _just_ so he can lay in a warm pocket of post-Blaise. He buries his head into the pillow, and takes a deep breath, smiling stupidly into the soft fabric of the pillowcase. He hugs the pillow close, and tighter than he would ever hug Blaise, before finally settling down and closing his eyes once more, his body neatly tucked in on Blaise's side of the mattress.

Precisely 15 minutes later, Blaise wanders out of the washroom; water dripping from his body, and a green towel is wrapped around his waist. He looks towards the mattress first, and seeks out Draco's shape which is currently curled up on its left side away from Blaise; and around a pillow. Blaise rolls his eyes and walks up to the bed, slowly crawling along the mattress before he starts to press kisses to Draco's bare arm, dribbling water all over Draco's face in the process.

"Wake up,"

Draco makes a noise strangely reminiscent of a lazy cat's chirp as soon as Blaise's lips touch his shoulder, "…I am awake."

"No you aren't. Your eyes are closed." Another kiss to Draco's shoulder as Blaise shifts and sits down beside Draco on the bed, pressing himself close to the curve of Draco's back.

Draco decides that this morning is going to be a difficult morning to get up. Having Blaise pressed against him just so, and oh those kisses – those languid, wonderful, soft kisses… "Yes, but I'm talking to you… hence, I am awake."

"You stubborn arsehole."

Draco grins a toothy grin into Blaise's pillow, but refuses to answer. This, of course, is met with a bite to the milky curve of his shoulder.

"Ouch!"

"Get up." Blaise mutters into his skin.

"I am up, you moron."

Blaise sighs now, and grabs the blankets, throwing them off of Draco's body and grinning to himself at the immediate fetal position Draco has just recently curled into. After this, he manages to somehow crawl over Draco's body without loosing his towel, and stands to the side. Blaise looks down at Draco and raises his eyebrow.

"…No Blaise. No. I _refuse_ to let you do this."

"Then get up."

"…But I'm comfortable…" Draco whines, pulling his legs up closer to his chest, and burying his head into the pillow, biting down hard on his lip.

"Mmmhm. I'm sure you are." With this, Blaise leans down and slips one arm under the hook of Draco's legs, the other under Draco's shoulder – and lifts him with a slight grunt.

Draco lets out a very unimpressed noise, and immediately wraps his arms around Blaise's neck as Blaise's pillow falls to the floor.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Blaise! Put me the down!" Draco growls, kicking his legs slightly. "Now!"

"…No." Blaise grins down at Draco and shakes his head in a way strangely reminiscent of a dog; and sprays Draco's face with droplets of cold water.

Draco squeezes his eyes shut, and makes a face as water pelts his nose, his cheeks, his neck, and his chest. He then slowly opens his eyes and levels Blaise with a horrible glare, "I hate you." Draco grinds out, "Now take me to the washroom, boy."

Blaise rolls his eyes and starts towards the washroom as ordered, "You know…" Blaise wonders aloud as he bounces Draco in his arms – being rewarded with a rather un-manly squeak as he does this, "you're getting kind of heavy. I can't be doing this more than… ooh… 12 mornings a month."

Draco starts with a pout, "You're putting a restrictio— I am NOT heavy, Zabini." And finishes with a sneer.

Blaise merely smiles innocently at him as he slowly lowers Draco to stand on the floor; not at all surprised that Draco's arms stay around his neck. So, of course, he opts to wrap his own arms around Draco's waist.

"No… not heavy. Festively plump, perhaps."

"Fuck you, Zabini." Draco glares, sliding his hands down and away from Blaise's neck. He's careful to drag his fingers over Blaise's triceps, and grins internally at the shiver that runs through Blaise's body.

"We took care of that last night, precious." Blaise grins in a rather cheeky manner, before patting Draco's bottom, twirling him around, and then pushes him in the direction of the washroom.

Draco doesn't put up a fight, but instead, grins to himself as he disappears into the room he's just been pushed into.

Draco emerges 14 minutes later (simply so he can silently gloat that he showered in less time), and levels Blaise with a disinterested look before walking past him, 'accidentally' dropping the towel from his waist, and bending down as he fishes through a drawer to find his boxers.

Blaise doesn't pass up the opportunity to take in the round, firm shape of Draco's arse. Blaise smiles as Draco stands up, and each one of his southern cheeks seem to dimple inwards, creating a rather lovely, porcelain vision infront of him. Draco then peeks over his shoulder, and smiles triumphantly as he notices that Blaise's eyes have settled on his arse.

"Blaise…?" Draco asks aloud, as he steps into green silk boxers.

"…Hm?" Blaise looks up from Draco's boxer clad arse, and to gray eyes as Draco turns around.

"Will you get me my trousers? They're on that chair," He announces, lazily pointing to the side.

"You're already standing." Blaise frowns, sitting straight on the bed.

"Yes, but they're so far away…" Draco trails off as he looks over at the black trousers and begins to pout.

Blaise rolls his eyes and gets up, walking past Draco and towards the chair. He grabs Draco's trousers and walks back over to where Draco is standing and running his hand down his arm to check for softness.

"And I suppose you'd like me to hold them as you step into them aswell?"

Draco looks up from his current study of his arm and over to Blaise, his eyes lit up with a childlike quality, "Oh would you?"

"No."

Draco's lips fall into another pout, "I hate it when you tease me."

Blaise simply hands Draco his trousers, and leans in to kiss his cheek, "No you don't."

And Draco can't seem to argue… because it's true in every sense of the statement.

The two then fall into a comfortable silence. They both walk around the room, finding their school shirts, socks, their shoes, and texts. Blaise divides the texts up into his, and Draco's (considering they often use each other's books), and puts Draco's texts into his bag, before walking towards the washroom to do his hair. Draco then walks to Blaise's books, and returns the favour, putting Blaise's texts into Blaise's bag. It doesn't occur to either of them to simply put their own texts into their own bags. It just isn't thought about.

Draco stops and looks out the window now, listening to Blaise putter about in the washroom, and smiles. Because this… this is happiness, it seems. Having someone to wake up with, someone to carry you to the washroom when you can't be arsed to move, and someone to – without complaint – get your trousers when you ask. But it's not only the material things.

No… no it's everything else. The way Blaise smiles at him when they look up from putting on a sock, and lock eyes with eachother for a split second. The way Blaise stops Draco from walking past him by sliding an arm around his waist, and kissing his neck, or shoulder, or even his lips… just because he wants to. Draco never complains… because if Blaise doesn't do it – he will. This is happiness, because they don't need to speak; and yet, they're having a full conversation with eachother without ever having to resort to words:

_'Do these socks look fine with the shoes…?'_ Blaise asks himself, with a tilt of his head as he looks down at his feet.

_'No… try these._' Draco answers, as he kisses the back of Blaise's neck and presses a pair of socks into his chest.

_'Really?'_ Blaise turns and looks at him, eyebrows raised as he lifts his hand and takes the socks.

_'Yes.'_ Draco smiles gently at him and pats Blaise's cheek with his hand before turning and walking to get his shoes from their place beside the door.

They read eachother perfectly. It's a practiced art that they have honed, and memorized to the best of their ability. There is never a doubt as to what the other is asking, there is never a questioning of the answer they are given. It is simply taken and trusted because they know it's right, or that it works… or even that it's just better _this_ way, instead of _that_ way.

Draco then blinks and shakes his head, leaning down to snap their bags shut, before he grabs two green and silver silk ties from the closet, two Slytherin clips, and walks towards the washroom. As he walks in, he hands one of the ties to Blaise, and Blaise smiles in thanks as he sets it down on the counter and turns up his collar. Within another second, Draco is lifting his arms and wrapping the tie around Blaise's neck, resting his hip against the counter as he begins to tie the silk around Blaise's neck.

First he measures the length of the tie, then crosses one side over the other, loops the fabric around, pulls it through the v of the fabric, then tucks the silk into the knot, and pulls it tight up to Blaise's neck. He presses his fingers in-between the tie and Blaise's shirt, loosening it slightly before reaching up and smoothing Blaise's collar down. He then lets his fingers drift over the fabric, as he straightens the tie and runs his hand down the length of it until it reaches Blaise's navel.

Blaise watches Draco's face as his tie is slowly knotted together, and smiles. Because Draco takes pride in everything he does, and he always ties Blaise's tie with such gentleness that Blaise finds it hard not to scoop Draco into his arms and kiss him until Draco is gasping for air, his cheeks pink from laughter. But he resists every time, and instead shivers when Draco's cool fingers slip in-between the fabric of two buttons as he pins Blaise's tie down to his shirt.

It is then Blaise's turn to return the favour. This is the time when Draco locks eyes with Blaise for a second, before smiling, and looking down as Blaise lifts up his collar, and slides the tie around Draco's neck before beginning to knot the fabric. He always watches closely as Blaise slowly runs the fabric through his fingers and loops it around and over and through. Draco is transfixed with the way Blaise's fingers move so effortlessly over the fabric, and always, always, _always_ looks up as Blaise is tightening the tie to Draco's neck.

They lock eyes as Blaise smoothes down Draco's collar. He then steps closer to Draco, and picks up the other pin. It is now Draco who resists the urge to run his fingers over Blaise's arm, over his lips, or be even through his hair. He instead stands silently, watching Blaise's face as Blaise pins Draco's tie to his shirt.

This is where Blaise looks up, and takes care of Draco's urge. He leans forwards and rests their chests together, staring intently into Draco's eyes, before Draco smiles and closes the distance between their lips. Draco lifts his hands and runs them up Blaise's arms, as Blaise's own hands slide around Draco's waist. Soon enough, they're kissing lazily, tasting mint and each other in the other's mouth. Draco's arms are resting on Blaise's shoulders, and Blaise's arms are around Draco's waist – holding Draco close to his own body. They feed of each other's heat, and Draco can't seem to get enough of the feeling of Blaise's tongue against his own.

It's warm, slippery, yielding… but at the same time it's forceful. Moving how it chooses to move; perhaps even without Blaise's knowledge. Blaise kisses Draco slowly, taking his time and learning all over again, for the millionth time; what Draco's mouth feels like under the pressure of his tongue. Draco kisses back with the same intentions, but his tongue is always more forceful, always more demanding – even if it's moving just as slow as Blaise's.

The way they kiss defines them easily defines them both down to a T. They know how to compromise, and if needed – they know how to make things go their own way. But these few minutes that are slowly turning into ten, are never about winning. It's never about proving that one is better than the other. It's about feeling, hearing, thinking… breathing.

They breathe each other in. Not the other's scent… but the other's purity (whatever is left of it), each others essence, each other's soul. They sometimes breathe in the other's air. Or, perhaps, taking in entirely new air, and sharing for the fun of it.

Soon enough, Draco sighs. A light, happy, blissful sigh, and pulls back from Blaise's mouth.

"We have school, Blaise."

"I know."

"We have to go,"

"I don't want to."

"_I_ have to go."

"You should stay with me,"

"Tomorrow."

"You always say that..."

Draco then smiles and presses a soft kiss to Blaise's forehead before regretfully slipping his arms away from Blaise's neck and stepping away, turning to look into the mirror. He admires the red of his lips in contrast to his pale skin, and smiles as he runs a hand through his hair and finds that it falls perfectly around his face. He then turns to Blaise, and rolls his eyes at the awestruck look on his face, before grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the washroom. Blaise hits the light on the way out.

Draco wanders towards the closet and grabs his cloak, slipping it on as Blaise grabs their bags. Blaise holds Draco's bag out, Draco hands him his cloak – and they make a switch. Draco then turns and walks towards the door, adjusting his bag over his shoulder before he feels Blaise come to stand next to him.

They're both now fully dressed, shoes and all. They're ready to face the world. But not before…

"…I adore you," Blaise whispers, pressing his lips to Draco's ear.

Draco's eyelashes flutter against Blaise's cheek, and his lips hitch up into a smile as his heart jumps into his throat. "I adore you too," He whispers back in a quiet voice.

Blaise then smiles and leans back, looking at Draco like he is the only thing that will ever matter again; like he's something beautiful and rare that no one but him ever gets to see. And it's true: Draco is beautiful. Draco is rare. This Draco… this boy who is looking back into Blaise's eyes, his cheeks slightly pink – is someone that only one other person gets to see.

Blaise studies Draco's face for a moment before leaning in and kissing him, once… twice… three times.

"To school?"

Draco nods, "To school."

With this, Draco opens the door, and holds it open for Blaise to walk by. Draco soon follows, and closes the door – locking it behind himself.

And behind the closed door, in-between the perfectly made sheets of the bed, hidden behind the shower curtain, or underneath the large green Slytherin rug…

Is happiness.

Is knowing you belong.

...Is love.

INCREDIBLY fluffy, wasn't it? -snuggles them- I love them so. Commenntttt!


End file.
